Tuesdays With Gregory
by HarleenQuinn
Summary: Loosely based on the book Tuesdays With Morrie, House and Chase engage in philosophical discussions as House deals with his impending death and Chase deals with his longlasting depression.
1. Chapter 1

**TUESDAYS WITH GREGORY**

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own any of the House characters orsongs featured. This story is loosely based after Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitchell Albom.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

CHAPTER ONE: Introspection

It was a clear, crisp, early morning. There I was, sitting in my car, parked on the side of the street, looking out through freshly washed windows at the beautiful, glowing city of Princeton. Princeton. The very name stabbed at my heart. This city that I lived and worked in for so many years. This city where I found myself, only to lose myself once again.

And so I sat there, doing nothing but gazing out and thinking. What went wrong with me? What was always wrong with me? Why did I leave this city, anyway? And why am I back?

Introspective thoughts can be perilous if not in one's own favor. If you have to admit to yourself that you did something wrong, or that your not as good as you thought you'd be, or that you never will be…well…that can be very dangerous to your mental and emotional health. Trust me, I know. I've been through the process more than enough times. And I learned two things. Yes, introspection can be dangerous, but it can also be necessary; it can be enlightening.

So I looked for enlightenment again. However, this time, as I asked myself these questions that had been plaguing me for some time, I found nothing but desperation and self-hatred. I kept repeating to myself, 'Necessary. Enlightening. Necessary. Enlightening..." It didn't work. It just kept getting hard to say.

I inhaled a deep breath of Jersey air. It calmed me a bit. It always did. Princeton, how I missed you. How I missed everything and everybody here. But I left, and it was necessary. Enlightening? I wasn't so sure.

All I knew was that this trip back to Princeton was sure to be both, but I was terribly nervous. I hadn't seen the man in years. 'And now all of a sudden, I'm going to knock on his door?' I thought. 'What ever will he think of me?' But then I realized it didn't matter. He never thought much of me anyway. And now he was dying. After so many years of pain, only now was his long life coming to a close.

That's what I needed. Closure. I regretted never saying goodbye to him. He taught me so much, and I just left without a thank you. Now was my chance to thank him. To say goodbye like I didn't before. 'But what if he just slams the door on me? What if he can't forgive me for leaving like I did?' I thought. 'You fool. He doesn't even care about you. He probably didn't even notice you left, and if he did, why would he give a hoot? You weren't friends. You weren't anything more to him than an underling.'

I sighed and got out of my car. It was now or never. All I had to do was knock on the door and say thank you. It was for me, not him. I had to know that I thanked him. I just had to. He might just slam the door or make an abrasive comment before doing it, but none of that mattered. I was doing it for me.

Knock. Knock. Knock. I stood outside the door, waiting, still nervous about his reaction, trying to convince myself it didn't matter what he thought. Ah, but I was no good at telling myself anything anymore. I couldn't trust myself to make good decisions. I couldn't trust my mind to tell me what was right. And when you can't trust your own self, than whom else can you trust?

Suddenly, a woman opened the door. She was tan, tall, and blonde, with radiant emerald eyes. She looked and me and asked, "Can I help you?"  
"Um…yes. Does Gregory House live here?" I asked.

She replied, "Yes…"  
"I'm an old friend of his and I heard about…well, may I come in and see him?"

She nodded and let me in. She led me through the corridor, and knocked on House's bedroom door. "Mr. House, you have a visitor."

I shuddered at the comment. Like he was in jail or a hospital, even though he was right in his own home.

"Ugh. Not now. General Hospital is on and this is the one where Tony and Tania find out they are going to have a baby! I haven't seen it in ages. So whoever you are, go away. Come back later. Like in five months, when I'll be dead and won't have to listen to any petty condolences," House said through the door.

'Same old House,' I thought and smiled to myself.

Despite what House requested, I knew that I wouldn't be staying in Princeton for long, and I had to have closure. I opened the door and saw him, lying on the bed watching his soap. He didn't look much different than he did when I saw him years ago. His hair was thinner, more wrinkles, he looked aged, of course. Not old. Aged. But he still had his same eyes that could see through anyone and everyone.

"Dr. House…" I said, as he turned to me.

Shock was apparent on his face. For once in his life, House didn't know what to say. He couldn't think of a witty comment, nor a deprecating remark. All he could say was, "Dr. Chase…"


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: The Confrontation

I stood there before House, unmoving and unsure of what to say. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket and stared at the floor. It was like I was in the Twilight Zone. I mean, there had been many awkward silences in my life, of course, but none with Gregory House. He always had something to say. So it was just that much more uncomfortable to stand there in utter quietude.

A few minutes that felt like hours passed, and I couldn't take another moment of deafening silence. So I said the first thing that came to mind. "H-how have you been?" Stupid.

"Well, I've been good. After I retired, I really found myself, you know? I wrote a novel, I immersed myself in the wonderful world of music, oh, and somewhere along the way, I even got cancer! So, yeah, I've been great," House replied without missing a beat.

"Oh," I replied, not knowing how to respond.

"Why did you come to see me, Chase?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "I…I heard about your condition and I wanted to see you one last time and thank you."

"Well, you've seen me. Now leave."

I was deeply saddened and surprised. I don't know why I'd be surprised. I mean, come on, it's House we're talking about. I should've figured he wouldn't want to get all sappy and emotional. But I was surprised, anyway. "Leave? Just like that?"  
"Yeah. Go. I've already missed about ten minutes of this episode because of you," House remarked. I looked at him with shock. "What are you so shocked about? Did you really expect me to give you a big hug when I saw you?"

"No, but I just thought…I just thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd be happy to see me. We worked together for years! You taught me so much, and our friendship meant a lot to me. But I guess it didn't mean much to you," I retorted, angry and overcome with sad realization. "I don't know why I ever thought differently. I don't know why I even bothered."

I waited for a reply, but House just sat there, staring at me. His face was emotionless, but his eyes were never vacant. They said something, but I wasn't sure what. But I realized that whatever House was thinking, he was not going to say, so I just shook my head and angrily paced out the door.

I walked past the woman. "Thank you for letting me in, Miss."  
"Well, aren't you going to stay? You just got here," she asked.

"House doesn't want to see me. But thanks, anyway."

She shook her head, understandingly. "Mr. House doesn't want to see anybody anymore. Whenever there are visitors, he just sends them back out again after five minutes. Don't take it too hard, that's just the way he is."

I sighed. "I know. I worked with him for several years. I know all his mind tricks and sharp-tongued remarks, but somehow I just thought he'd be different. It was a foolish notion, I know. It's my fault I'm angry. House always said, 'Expect nothing, and you'll never be disappointed.' I should've listened to him."

I opened the door and left. I got in my car, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. 'You thanked him. You did what you had to,' I told myself. But again, my words seemed lost on me.

Suddenly, a tall figure came out of the house. I looked to my right and saw House, limping over to my car. I unrolled the window.

House said, quietly and solemnly, "Come back next Tuesday. We can talk then."

Before I could reply, he limped back into his house, leaving me with nothing more. 'Come back next Tuesday? He actually wanted me to come back?' I couldn't fathom it. Maybe he was different. Or maybe he did treasure our friendship the way I did. All I knew was that I had to come back and find out.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: The First Tuesday, We Talk About the World

Driving back to House's house the following Tuesday felt particularly strange. I just kept thinking that the whole thing was some kind of joke. And House always had an eccentric sense of humor.

I parked on the side of the street, got of the car, and approached the door. Ring. Ring. Ring. The beautiful woman answered again and looked very surprised to see me.

"Mr. Chase, was it? What are you doing back?" Then as if to correct a mistake, she quickly added, "Not like I don't want you back or something! I just was curious because I thought House…"

"It's okay. Actually, the surprise is not just yours. I'm pretty shocked to be here myself. The really weird part is…House invited me," I told her.

With a gaping mouth and astonished green eyes, she said, "He did? Really? That's very…uncharacteristic of him. He must really like you."

I shrugged. "Nah, I don't think so. I'm not really sure why he asked me back, but I doubt it's 'cause he likes me."

"Well, it's a good thing anyway. He could use some company."

I smiled and headed for House's bedroom door. Knock.

"Come in," said House.

I walked in and saw him sitting at a small, round table, a thick book opened on top of it. House was staring at it, not even noticing I walked in. I waited for his eyes to look up. He turned one more page and then closed the book.

"Dr. Chase. I see you made it," he said.

I nodded. "What are you reading?"  
"'Serendipities: Language and Lunacy' by Umberto Eco."

"That's a great book. You'll love it," I commented.

House smirked. "I know. It's my fifth time reading it. So I understand it better than you, so I appreciate it more, and love it more. So I win."

"Who said it was a competition?" I asked.  
"Who said it wasn't?" He pushed out a chair and motioned for me to sit. I ambled over to the table and sat.

"So…" I started, uncomfortably. "I've been good."

House leaned in, with a mock-confused expression on his face. "Hmmm? Oh, I'm sorry, do you think I care about how you've been?"

I sighed. "Well, you asked me back here for a reason. If you don't care, then why did you tell me to come back?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Not necessarily about you. Gosh, you Australians never lose your egos, no matter how long you've lived in the land where the eagle flies," House answered.

I got up from the table and started out the room.  
"Where do you think you're going?" House questioned.

"Look, you obviously have nothing to say to me except disparaging remarks, and I have no time for them. So…" I responded.

"So you're just going to run away like you did before. Like you did last week and like you did ten years ago. You can't take the heat, so you go out in the cold again," House said. "And believe me, that leather jacket you always wear is not enough to keep you safe and warm."

I stopped in my tracks and lowered my head. House continued, "You're a coward, Chase. And if you're scared of me, then how are you going to deal with the real scary things in the world? Self-hatred, loneliness, pain?"

"Fine, House. I'm a coward. But you know what? I deal with those things every day of my life. Unlike some people, who don't actually DEAL with their pain. Instead, they decide to take it all out on others," I riposted.

Our eyes met, followed by a long awkward silence. Finally, House spoke up. "I hate awkward silences. Kind of like how I hate the color pink, Simple Plan, and brussel sprouts."

I chuckled as he smiled and patted my empty chair with his cane. I sat back down. "So, House, what did you want to talk about?"  
"The world," House said, staring into space like a philosopher.

"The world?"

"Yeah, it's this planet that's the third from the sun and the fifth largest of all," House explained, leaning in closer as if to tell me a secret. "And rumor has it that love makes it go round,"

"Okay, okay. What about the world do you want to talk about?" I asked.

House twirled his cane in the air. "I don't know. Well, let's see. In 'Serendipities', Eco uncovers several mistakes that have shaped human history, one of them being Columbus's assumption that the world was much smaller than it is. It got me thinking. Everything looks small to one person, when it's compared with something bigger."

"Having trouble with your girlfriend, House?" I said, laughing to myself.

"For once, I'm being serious, Chase. Everything that's bad for one person would be good for another. Don't you agree?"

I thought about it, then shook my head. "No. I mean, what about famine and disease and the like? How could that be good to someone?"

House asked, "Would you rather starve to death or be murdered?"

"Starve."

"See. That's my point."

I counter argued, "But then what about the person getting murdered? How can that option be good to someone else?"  
"Let's see if you can figure it out," House said, waiting for a response.

It felt like old times. House already knowing the answer, but wanting me to figure it out anyway. "Someone might choose being murdered over someone they love being murdered?"

"Very good. That's one possibility. And so you see how the cycle repeats?"  
"Yeah. So?"

"So! So, me and you…we really don't have it so bad, do we?" House asked, but I wasn't sure if he was asking him or me.  
I shrugged. "I guess not, but then again, I think that self-inflicted pain is worse than others causing you pain."

"Self-inflicted? Chase, have you been hanging out with that dominatrix again?"

I rolled my eyes. He'd never let me live that down. Even twenty years later. "No, what I meant was emotional and mental pain. No one can cause that but yourself, right? You create and destroy your own happiness?"

House nodded thoughtfully. "Most of the time."

Another silence. Finally, I said, "Well, House, if there is nothing else, I ought to be going."

"You just got here," House said, almost pleadingly. I was shocked. He really did want my company.

"Y-yeah, I know, but…" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. He nodded understandingly.

"It's okay. Go, do what you have to. Will you come and see me again next Tuesday?"

I was taken aback, but managed to say, "Yeah, of course."

House explained, "The world is a big place. There's a lot more to discuss about it. Not all of the world is pain, you know." House opened his book again and started reading. I watched him for a moment before heading out.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR: The Second Tuesday, We Talk About Feeling Sorry For Yourself

"Why do you frown so much, Chase? It's really not a good look on you. You look like Beaver Cleaver meets Tony from West Side Story. Although, I doubt you can sing," House said as we sat together the following Tuesday.

"Beaver meets Tony, eh? Not too bad, I guess. I thought you'd come up with worst," I said.

"You just wait for it," House remarked with a smirk. "So why do you frown so much?"  
"Is this going to be a lead-in to another philosophical conversation?"  
"Yes."  
I sighed, knowing that when House had his mind set on something, it was wise

to just go along with it. "I frown because I'm unhappy. Okay?"

"Hmmm…okay…It's okay with me if you're unhappy. You can bawl like a baby every night for all I care. And it seems to be okay with you too, so I guess it's okay with everyone," House replied. "Is it okay with you?"

I didn't know how to answer. "Uh. Yes. No…I don't know."

"You better figure it out," House said.

I hated when he acted like my father, but I loved it at the same time. I thought about what he said, and although it was extremely difficult to admit, especially to House, I said, "It's…not okay with me."

"Good. Now we're getting somewhere. Why are you so unhappy?" House asked, twirling his cane in the air like he did so often.

"I thought you didn't care," I responded, not sure if I wanted to go into my depression.

House reiterated, "I don't. But now you do. So…why are you so unhappy?"

"I don't know."

House then got angry. "Don't tell me you don't know! You can't wallow through life and say you don't know why!"

"I don't!" I shouted back, then lowered my voice. "I really don't know why, House." I sounded like a lost little boy.

House's irate expression calmed down into his usual not-able-to-know-what-he's-thinking look. "When did you become depressed?"

"When? I, well, when did it start?" I asked myself. "I guess it really began the day I started my job with you."  
House's eyebrows rose. "Oh, is that true? You start working with me and just like that, you're clinically depressed. Watching Schindler's List every night and listening to 'All is Fair in Love' every morning. Wow, I did all that to you? I can die happy now!"

I rolled my impeccable blue eyes. "No, House. It wasn't you. It was the realization that I would never become a priest like I wanted. That I was really going through with this whole medicine thing that I never desired to do in the first place."

House sarcastically replied, "Hmmm…so your unhappiness started the day your self-pity kicked in? Think there's any correlation, doctor?"  
"No, I don't, because…" I started.

House quickly interrupted, "Oh, so sadness and feeling sorry for yourself are two symptoms that are unrelated? Man, this one's going to be tough then. Might have to call Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron to help us with our diagnosis."

"Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that I don't think they are two different symptoms. I think they come together due to something, not one creates the other," I explained.

"Beep! Wrong again!" House exclaimed. "Depression and self-pity don't just appear at once. It starts like this: you first start noticing all the little bad things about your day, then your life, then yourself, and voila! Depression."  
"Yeah, you must be an expert, right?" I said, trying to get to him.

And I did get to him, I thought. His face changed. His eyes changed. But all he said was, "Yeah. I wrote the book on it."

"I'd like to read it," I replied, playing along.

"I'll let you borrow it sometime," House said quietly. "So what are you going to do?"  
"About my depression?" I asked.  
"Yeah."

"I guess I'll just keep coming to see you. Just last week you convinced me that there are others that have it much worst than I do. Today you told me about unhappiness. I won't become joyous overnight, of course, but I know there is a lot more to learn from you. And maybe someday I can be happy," I answered.

House nodded, not sure what to say. "All right, then."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE: The Dinner

The Saturday after my last meeting with House, I was in my bedroom putting on my coat and tie. Molly and Nicolaas Anderson recently found out they were going to have their second baby, and I was going to dinner with them and some friends to celebrate.

Nicolaas had been my friend since high school, when we were both on the football team, in the Academic Bowl, and just about every other thing together. We had a lot in common, but there were always two major differences.

Number one: Nicolaas was happier than a puppy with a new chew toy. And number two: Nicolaas got everything he ever dreamed of. He had a job as a film director, a beautiful, loving wife, a darling little girl, and now a second baby! And what did I have? Nothing. Everyone in my family was dead except my sister, who I hadn't seen since our huge brawl when Dad died. I had no wife, just a divorcee who couldn't stand the sight of me. No children…I think that's the part that tore at my heart the most. I had always wanted children.

Although I felt seeping jealously for my friend, I dressed nicely and rode to Antonio's for dinner. As I saw the familiar faces of my friends, I felt a little more at ease. 'Just be pleasant, Robert, this is Nicolaas's day. You haven't the right to ruin it with your jealously,' I kept telling myself, but that thought was always followed by, 'Nicolaas's day…more like one of his many days.'

I sat down next to Nicolaas and Gareth, another buddy from high school. I knew most of the people sitting at our table, but there were a few new faces. I introduced myself to the people I didn't know.

One middle-aged woman with a chubby, rosy face started the small talk. "So, Molly, have you thought of any names yet!"

Molly, still looking slender as always, chuckled. "No, not yet, Marie. We don't even know if it'll be a boy or girl!"

Another woman asked, "Which are you hoping for?"  
Nicolaas answered, "A boy! I mean…we don't care as long as it's healthy." Everyone laughed.

"So how does Alexa feel about it?" I asked. Alexa was their 4-year-old girl.

"Alexa is excited! Actually, she's the one that's been thinking up names!" Molly exclaimed.

"Really? Like what?" Marie asked curiously.

"Well, she's really just getting them from her favorite shows. She wants us to name the baby Elmo or Arthur," Molly said with a laugh.

I smiled and said, "Arthur's not so bad!"  
"The show or the name, Robby?" Nicolaas joked.

We all shared a chuckle, and the night grew on in joyous company. I was extremely thankful I came, a night with my friends was just what the doctor ordered. By 8:00 after we had all eaten the main course, we were sitting by waiting for dessert, and of course, talking. Nicolaas was talking about his upcoming movie and about his literary agent.

He said, "Gabriella's some agent, I tell you. I wrote four features that every agency turned down, but then she saw something in them. And look where I am now."

Gareth was getting interested. "So does she only do movies? Or what?"  
"She accepts movies, TV series, novels…just about any kind of writing."  
Gareth nodded as he thought. "I've been looking for an agent for my novel for about year…"

I interrupted, "You wrote a novel, Gar?"  
"Yeah, I did, and this agent sounds like something else!" Gareth said excitedly.

Nicolaas said, "I'd be more than happy to give you her number."  
"Great, I've got a paper right here."

Molly asked, "Can't this wait till after dessert?"  
Nicolaas replied, "It'll only take a sec, Molly. Okay, Gareth, you ready?"

Gareth reached into his coat and pulled out a half sheet of yellow paper. It already had writing on it, so he turned it over and wrote down the number as Nicolaas said it. I looked at the paper curiously.

"Hey, Gareth, what's on the back of the paper?" I questioned.

Gareth turned it over. "It says, 'Accept the past as past, the present as present, and the future as something you'll never attain, so you might as well give up right now.' Heh-heh."

"Sounds a little cynical for something you'd say, Gareth," I commented.

"I didn't write it. This old man was just handing them out on the street," he responded.

I took the paper and looked at the handwriting. It resembled House's. "Hey, did the guy look like this?" I asked as I took out a picture of House from my wallet.

"Yeah! That's him! Why do you have his picture?" Gareth asked.

Before I could reply, Molly looked and said, "Is that your father? Wow, you look just like him, Robert. You have his eyes."  
I didn't know what to say. I stuttered, "Uh…uh…no, it's not my father." It pained me to say it. "It's my old boss. My father died twenty years ago."

The room fell silent. I wished I could climb in bed and never wake up. I put the picture away, just as the desserts came.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX: Never Danced

The dinner party was over, thankfully, and I got in my car to head home. I looked through my CDs and decided I felt like listening to the jazzy beats and soulful lyrics of Luther Vandross. Even though inside I was crying, I drove home, singing along to "She Loves Me Back", one of my favorite songs. It made me feel better. It always made me happier to sing.

But after that song came "Dance With My Father". I never listened to it before. I'd always fast-forward when it came to that song, for fear that I might have to face my feelings about my dad. I was never ready to do that, but that one night, I felt like I had to hear it.

_Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence  
My father would lift me high and dance with my mother and me and then  
Spin me around 'til I fell asleep  
Then up the stairs he would carry me  
And I knew for sure I was loved  
If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him  
I'd play a song that would never, ever end  
How I'd love, love, love  
To dance with my father again_

My father never lifted me high. He never carried me up to bed. He never danced with my mother. He never danced with me. Before I even realized it, tracks of tears were imprinted on my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly. My father always told me never to cry. And so I always tried my hardest to obey him.

_When I and my mother would disagree  
To get my way, I would run from her to him  
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me  
Then finally make me do just what my mama said  
Later that night when I was asleep  
He left a dollar under my sheet  
Never dreamed that he would be gone from me  
If I could steal one final glance, one final step, one final dance with him  
I'd play a song that would never, ever end  
'Cause I'd love, love, love  
To dance with my father again_

When I and my mother would disagree…well, that didn't happen too often. I loved her so much and she loved me. Or at least I thought she did. But her alcoholism proved me wrong. And then my dad left us. That's when arguments between my mother and me started to get bad. I couldn't bare to see her destroy herself, but she never listened to me. She'd yell and scream and reach for the booze.

I always wondered what my life would've been like if certain things didn't happen. What if my mom never started drinking? What if Dad didn't leave? I couldn't help but wonder over and over again until my mind physically ached from exhaustion.

I parked my car in my driveway and got out. I opened the door and immediately jumped on my bed. I tried my best to tune out my thoughts, but they didn't want to be tuned out. I kept trying until I fell asleep. My mind still wasn't at peace, though. Thoughts of my father and mother and my screwed-up life echoed in my mind and in my nightmares.

_Every night I fall asleep, and this is all I ever dream._


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN: The Third Tuesday, We Talk About Regrets

Every day after that Saturday, I was more depressed than ever. Every morning, I'd lay in bed, rubbing my eyes, checking the time, preparing to get up and start the day. And then I started asking myself why. Why should I get up? The classic "No reason to get out of bed" feeling came to me. Why? I thought about it. There was nothing that I _needed_ to do. No one I had to see or talk to. No job to go to. No one would notice if I didn't come out for days. No one would care.

So I thought, 'I'm going back to sleep. Why not?' Then it hit me. I didn't want to go back to sleep. I wasn't tired. But, here I was, lying in bed, contemplating getting up in the morning. It wasn't that I didn't want to get out of bed, I just didn't want to…I don't know…do anything. And then, I started pondering that. There was nothing in the world I wanted to do. Nothing. And I mean nothing. I thought about it long and hard. Didn't feel like eating, or checking my email, or going to a bar. Didn't feel like mingling, flirting, socializing with friends or strangers.

I didn't want to even do things that I have longed for for quite some time. Things like playing a rock concert with millions of adoring fans, my blonde hair wild and my eyes full of life. I thought about what that would be like. I didn't want it. And the dream of this perfect Christmas day, with my sons and daughters on my knees as they opened their presents from me and a woman who actually loved me. I imagined it. Didn't want it. Felt nothing about it.

I dreamt of going back to Australia and seeing my old friends, seeing my old house with the tire swing and tree house and white picket fence. Didn't want it. Didn't desire anything in the world. Not even taking back my sins. And that's something I thought I'd always want to do.

So, there I was. Lying in bed. 6:22 in the morning. Thinking about so much, but feeling absolutely nothing. My heart felt like a hollow container, and my soul seemed to have vanished completely. I wasn't scared or sad or angry. I was…nothing.

So, nothing I did. I laid in bed from Sunday morning until Tuesday morning when I realized that I did have a reason to get out of bed that day. I had to go see House. I dragged myself out of bed and dressed quickly before driving to House's. When I arrived, the pretty woman greeted me once again.

"Hi, Mr. Chase. House is ready to see you," she said as I entered. Sounded like I was going to see a therapist.

I replied, "Thanks, Mrs…um…you know, this is embarrassing. I've been here like four times and I haven't gotten your name."

"It's Trinity…Trinity Jacobs. And I know your last name, but I didn't catch your first," Trinity answered. "Wait, let me guess. I'm really good at guessing names. I guessed House's name when I first met him!"

"Really? That's amazing. Okay, guess mine," I said.

"Hmmm…Bobby?" She guessed.

My eyes widened with surprise as I smiled. "Wow! Yeah, it's Robert. You're right. How do you do that?"

"I don't know really. Just a specialty," Trinity replied with a smile.

Then I saw House peeking his head out of the door watching us. "Um…I think House is watching. I better go."

"Yeah, that's why you're here, right?" Trinity said as pointed toward House's door. I went in.

I said jokingly, "So aside from nephrology and infectious disease, you have a specialty in espionage?"

House replied snarkily, "Yeah, and your girlfriend seems to have a triple specialty in taking care of grumpy old men, flirting with cute Australian visitors, and a surprising talent in the field of onomastics."

I smirked as I sat down next to him. House continued, "So are you interested in her? I mean, you probably haven't gotten down with anyone since your divorce."

My divorce. I didn't want to talk about it, so I moved onto the next subject. "So what great intellectual conversation are we going to have today?"

"Today we're going to talk about regrets," House said, already having it planned out.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I'd regret not talking about it," House replied with mock sincerity.

I sat back waiting for House's first question. And then it came. "So, let's get right to it. Do have any regrets?"

"Of course. Who doesn't?" I said.

House responded, "What are they?"

"A lot of things."

"Come on, Chase. We don't have time to dilly-dally. General Hospital's on in thirty minutes. So just tell me!" House said eagerly.

"Where do I even start?" I asked sadly.

"You can start with your divorce," House offered.

I shook my head. "Why are you so interested in my divorce, House?"

"Because she was my…well, she wasn't really my friend. She was downright annoying most of the time. Like a Furbie. But you guys seemed…really happy. And then one day, you weren't together. Neither of you really ever told me why. So, what happened?" House asked.

"I still don't feel like talking about it," I said quietly.  
House paused before saying, "Okay. Well, any other regrets then?"

I sighed deeply. "Never having children, never following my dreams…"

House said, "You can still have children. You can still follow your dreams."

"No, I can't. I'm too old for that now."

"Too old! That's me we're talking about. I'm the one who is reaching 70. I'm the one who can't do anything else with his life," House said.

"70's not old, House. You can still do a lot of things."

"And you can't? Why? Is 45 the new 100?" House asked sarcastically.

I shrugged. "You can still do things because you have things you WANT to do. I have nothing anymore. I feel nothing."

"You feel depressed."

"Yeah…"

"So you do feel something," House offered.

I told him, "Usually I don't even feel depressed. I just feel completely hollowed out."  
"Hollowed out…nice image, Chase."

I knew it would make me sound vulnerable, but I felt like I had to tell him. "The only time I have emotions provoked in me in when I'm here with you."  
"You're not coming out of the closet, are you?" House asked.

"No. Talking with Trinity, talking with you, even just walking up to this house makes me feel alive."

"I guess you need to spend more time here, then," House said. I nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so. But the really ironic part is that when I'm here, I have to open up old wounds and deal with myself, but I still feel happier than when I'm anywhere else," I commented.

"Well, you always were into pain," House said, referring to my past.

I smiled. "That was only one girlfriend I had! And I was the sadist in the relationship, not the other way around. How many times do I need to clarify that?"

House replied, "Until you stop hurting yourself. Then maybe I'll believe it."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Fourth Tuesday, We Talk About Death

"Let's do something a little different this Tuesday," I suggested when I arrived at House's. I was trying to force myself to be happy, because nothing else worked so far.

He was surprised at my enthusiasm. "Tired of meatloaf and Sex and the City? Think me and you should get away for the week, leave the kids at Grandma's?"

After a pause, I offered, "Zoo?"

"Leave the kids at the zoo? You really aren't suited for this whole mother thing, are you?" House exclaimed. I sighed and waited for his 'real' response, which he gave me a few moments later. "Okay, so…zoo? Are you mad, Chase!"

"I just might be," I replied casually. "So, what do you say? Care to take a walk on the wild side?"

"I wouldn't call spending a day looking at animals throw fecal matter at each other a walk on the wild side. I saw it everyday when I went to work you and the others. But sure, I'll go," House answered.

I smiled. "Okay, then."  
House tried to get up from his chair, but was having some difficulty. He looked in pain as he gripped his hand to the table and tried to rise from his seat. I immediately went over to him and helped him up, but he pushed me away harshly. "I'm fine!" He shouted as he pushed in his chair.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were having trouble," I said.

"I wasn't," House lied.

An awkward silence followed. Hadn't had one of those in a while. We walked out of his room together. I saw Trinity cleaning up the house. The sight confused me. She was his health care worker, not a maid! But knowing House, he'd use her for both.

Trinity saw us leaving and asked, "Hey, where are you guys off to?"

"Whorehouse," House replied matter-of-factly. Trinity's eyes widened. She looked at me for verification.

I shook my head. "No, we're going to the zoo."

"Nice cover-up, Chase," House said through his teeth.

"The zoo? Why?" Trinity asked, still unsure of what to think.

Before House could answer with a lie, I quickly said, "Just for a change of pace." She nodded.

As House and I walked out the door, he said quite loudly, "Zoo! I just don't know where you come up with 'em, Chasers. Do you have like a book of the 500 best alibis or something?"

I looked back at Trinity, trying to justify what House said, but she just smiled and waved it off, knowing what a kidder House was. I smiled back and walked out.

As soon as I closed the door, I asked House irritably, "Why did you tell Trinity that we were going to a whorehouse?"

"She didn't believe me, Chase. No harm done," House nonchalantly responded.

"Yeah, but…" I started, not wanting to let him off the hook.

House turned around at me with surprise. A small smile crept up on his face. "Why do you care so much, Chase? Is it because you like her?"

I looked away. "I like her. Why wouldn't I? She's nice."

"But do you like her like her?" House asked.

"What are you? Eight?"

"Well, I'll be nine in two months!" House cried.

I sighed. "Come on. Let's go." House and I got into my car and zoomed off. House immediately put in a CD of The Who.

"Happy Jack wasn't old, but he was a man…" House sang. And he sang for the entire drive. Luckily, the drive wasn't long, or I might've actually gone mad.

We arrived at the zoo and parked the car. Because his leg had gotten worse, it took House a while to get from the parking lot to the exhibits. I offered to help, but he once again told me he was fine.

Finally, we got in and headed straight for the monkeys, then the flamingoes, then the giraffes…By the time an hour went by, we had seen mostly everything. We headed for the tiger exhibit, which we hadn't seen yet.

With a bright red balloon in hand, I watched the tigers in awe. They were stunning. Orange and onyx dyes painted artistically on their large bodies.

"Wow, the tigers are really neat, huh?" I said to House, who had been quiet for a while.

"Let's talk about death," House said abruptly.

I turned my head towards him in surprise. "What?"  
"Being at the zoo doesn't take away the fact that it is still Tuesday. And on Tuesdays we have philosophical conversations," House explained. "So…let's talk about death."

"Why death?" I asked.

House answered, "You know how when an aunt or uncle calls you up and tells you they are coming to visit? You haven't thought about them in a while, and suddenly they say they are gonna show up on your doorstep? How after you talk with them, you start thinking about them and how it's gonna be when they actually get to your house?"

I nodded.

"Well, death's coming, Chase. I can feel it more and more everyday," House said.

Like so many times before, I didn't know what to say to him. "House…I-I…"  
"You don't have to feel sorry for me. That's not why I wanted to talk to you about death. I want to talk about it from an objective point of view."

"Okay. Well, it's hard to be objective about death, when we all know it's something you think about personally," I said.

House replied, "I know, but that's the challenge."

I thought about it for a moment and then offered, "Well, I guess we can think about it as if it's some abstract event that we are sure will never happen to us. And if that were the case, I guess I'd think that death really isn't all that scary. You just have to accept it, but not dwell on it."

"Hmmm…" House said as he pondered.

I thought House was thinking and focusing too much to listen, so I quietly mumbled, "Sometimes it actually seems like a better choice than life." I made two mistakes in that second. Number one: Saying what I said. Number two: Thinking House wouldn't hear me.

He did hear me. His inquisitive sapphire eyes looked over to me and he stared at me. Neither of us said anything, but he started to limp away.  
"Let's go home, Chase," he said sadly. I followed him, head down, and unclasped my hand. My balloon flew off into the distance, and like a little boy, I wondered why I let it go. Why I couldn't have just held on a little longer.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE: The Fifth Tuesday, We Talk About Family

"I don't have a family," I told House the next Tuesday when he asked about it.

"No family?" House questioned suspiciously. "You must have some one."

I shook my head. "No. All dead."

House studied my expression before concluding assertively, "I don't believe you."

I looked up at him, solemnity apparent on my face. "Why would I lie about something like that?"

"Not everyone in your family could be dead. I mean, come on. I'm 68 and I still have family alive," House said.

I looked at him, my pale blue eyes cold. "Lucky you."

"So you're dad died of cancer, you're mum died of alcoholism…" House started.

"STOP!" I shouted. "Stop…"  
House shut up for once. I breathed in deeply. "My sister is alive. But I haven't spoken to her in twenty years, so she's basically dead to me anyway."

"You're an idiot," House stated. I looked up in surprise.

"Care to explain that bold statement?"  
House put on his best womanly voice. "Aw, Chase, I'm bold? I bet you say that to all the old men," Then he changed tones to his usual gruff voice. "It wasn't a bold statement. It's too obvious to be bold."

"I give up. How am I an idiot?" I asked frustrated.  
"How are you an idiot, let me count the ways

You are an idiot to the depth and breadth and height  
Your soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
For the ends of being and ideal stupidity.  
You are an idiot to the level of every day's  
Most ignorant need, by sun and candlelight.  
You are an idiot freely, as men strive for beer.  
You are an idiot purely, as they turn from work.  
You are an idiot with the passion put to use  
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.  
You are an idiot with a foolhardiness I seemed to lose  
With my lost leg. You are an idiot with the breath,  
Diagnoses and treatments, of all my life; and, if God choose,  
You shall be an idiot better after death," House said, amazingly coming up with a

new version to Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem.

I stared at him in awe. "Wow, that was good, House!"

House shook his head in disbelief. "And the poem does not lie, does it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you think I'm an idiot? A real answer, please."

"Because you have a sister and because of one stupid fight you're never going to talk to her again! That's why you're an idiot," House finally answered.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You weren't there. You didn't hear the things she said about Dad when he died," I told him.

House shrugged. "So what if she bad-mouthed a dead man? You hated him too."

"I did NOT hate him, House," I said, my voice raising.

"Yeah, but you didn't like him either," House replied.

I pulled my hand through my hair. "I still wouldn't disrespect him the way she did."

"Maybe that's true, but you ever stop to think that she was just speaking out of grief?" House inquired.

"No, this wasn't some perverse form of grief," I said. "She was really glad he was gone."

"Somehow I doubt that, Chase,"

I quickly responded, "Well, that's because you don't know my family. You're lucky you don't."

"I still think you should talk to her. You don't have anyone else, Chase."

"I have you."

House lowered his head. "Not for long. And I don't want you to have to be alone like I was for so many years. I don't want to see the cycle repeat itself. Because you know what, Chase? Right now it might be fine to be stubborn and vow to stay mad at your sister. Right now it might seem great to wash out your memories of your mom and dad. But somewhere down the line, you're going to be sorry. You're going to be alone and more depressed than you are now, and I don't want to see that happen."

"Why do you even care, House? When did you start caring about me?" I asked, bewildered.

"When you won the lottery and I thought that if I got close to you, I could get a little money," House replied sarcastically. Then he sighed and said, "When I realized that when everything else is taken away from you…job, health, everything…you've got one thing and that's your family."

"But I'm not your…"

"Yeah, you are," House said. "Yeah, you are."


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN: The Loss

I drove along the quiet road that led to House's. The golden autumn leaves glistened on mahogany branches before they gently floated down. A few children were out, jumping into piles of the gold splendors, laughing and playing. Some parents gathered about in the yards, the aroma of grilled hamburgers wafting through the air. 'Ah,' I thought. 'So peaceful.'

But something felt different about this Tuesday. I wasn't sure what it was, but something was unsettled inside me. And not the usual depression, it was something else. It made me shiver although it was a warm, dazzling day outside.

I parked my car near House's house. I got out but something was pulling me back. Something told me I shouldn't go inside, but sure enough, I was walking up the steps and ringing the doorbell.

Of course, Trinity answered. She looked like a mess. Her eyes were tired and worried, her shiny blonde hair disheveled. She still looked as beautiful as ever, though.

"Trinity? What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's House," she answered agitatedly. "He won't come out of his room. He hasn't been out for days. He won't take his medication, he won't do anything. I don't know what to do!"

My eyes lit with worry. "Wh-what? Why? What's going on?"

Her voice was filled with panic. "I have no idea. He hasn't told me anything. He's barely spoken since Thursday."

I walked into the room with hurried feet and immediately knocked on House's door.

An almost inaudible voice answered, "Go 'way."  
"House, it's me, Chase. Please open the door."

"I said, 'Go 'way!'" He shouted back, but his voice was so small it sounded more like a whisper than a shout.

"Please, House. Tell us what's wrong," I pleaded, feeling like I was talking to a child. It was quiet on the other side of the wall. "Please."  
"Chase, you come in," House finally said. I looked over at Trinity before entering the room.

House looked horrible. He hair was messed up, his leg was shaking, his body stretched out on his bed like I assumed it had been for days. But the most noticeable thing was his eyes. His incredibly blue irises were clouded by red. They were watery and drooping. He'd been crying. House. House was crying. This was more serious than I thought.

"H-House?" I stuttered. He said nothing, just stared with those clouded eyes. "Wh-what h-happened?"

"He's dead," House replied. "Wilson's dead."


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Funeral

All the funerals in the movies take place on cold, rainy days, but it isn't usually like that in real life. Most funerals I've been to, and I've been to many, were during bright days when you just might have been fooled into thinking that the day was pleasant.

But this funeral for James Wilson was just like the ones in the movies. Not a glimmer of sunlight was seen. Storm clouds were dark and threatening as light rain drizzled down upon us.

I helped House walk along with the others, and this time, he didn't protest that he was fine walking alone. He let me help him. It was the first I ever remember House allowing anyone to lend a hand to him, except maybe Wilson.

Wilson and House had been best friends when I started working at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I don't know how long they had been friends, but whenever you'd see them together, it seemed as if they had known each other since the sandbox.

I knew that probably wasn't true, but at that moment, it was a nice image. Little House and little Wilson playing on the jungle gym in elementary school. And then the bell rings and they scurry off to class, where they sit in the back passing notes about which girls they fancy. Wilson has a load full of choices already; House has selected the one girl that challenges him. And they chatter away until the teacher asked irritably, "James, Greg…do I hear you talking?" And House would give him a look and reply, "I hope so, because if you don't hear me talking right now, you might be hearing-impaired." Wilson laughs and says, "Good one, Greg. You totally told him!"

Yeah, that was a nice little movie I played out in my mind as we sat down at the funeral. I looked over at House, his skin pale, his eyes paler. His weak hand gripped tightly to his cane. He hadn't spoken since we got in the car, and I couldn't blame him. I knew what it was like to lose someone, but the difference was, I never really knew what it was like to lose someone I really loved.

The rain fell down harder as the priest said all those things priest say at funerals. Then it was time for the eulogy, which was to be delivered by Mr. Gregory House. I helped House out of his seat, and as he stood before all of Wilson's friends and family, he seemed to freeze up. He looked at each face, but said nothing. I looked up at him, my cerulean eyes widening a bit in anticipation.

Finally he spoke. "James Wilson…he was…he was the best friend I've ever had. Heck, he was the only friend I've ever had. He was the only one to understand me and support me, even during the many, many times that I was a jerk to him and everyone else. He still stood by me, he still was my friend. That kind of loyalty is rare, it really is. I'm not sure why exactly he loyal to me, why he cared about me as his best friend.

James was the most kind and benevolent person I ever knew. Everyone loved him. He could've had plenty of best friends. I've never figured out why he decided to stand by me of all people. James was selfless, he really gained nothing from me, but that didn't change anything. He was brilliant, generous, a great doctor, and a better person than I could ever be."

He paused for a moment. "And I couldn't even pick up the phone. I couldn't even pick up the blasted phone and call him to see how he was. I was telling my friend, Robert, just the other day that he was an idiot for letting one fight dictate his relationship will his sister. That he should get over himself and give her a call! You only have one sister. And I only had one best friend, but because of one past falling out, we hadn't spoken in years. I couldn't even bring myself to follow my own advice. That night I took the phone in my hand and began dialing James' number, but after the first three digits, I hung up.

I was too stubborn, too stupid to let my guard down and be happy. And that night…that night was the night that James decided that he felt like going out, meet some new people. Felt like a good time at a bar was the cure for his loneliness. Had a few drinks, got in his car to drive home, and…well, you know what happened from there. The point is that if I had just called him, he might've stayed home that night and caught up with me. And if he was meant to die that night, if I had just called him, at least he would died happier, at least he wouldn't have died knowing that he was alone," House finished. He limped away from everyone, his leg paining him more than ever. The faces in the audience were astounded and filled with the kind of sadness I had only seen when I looked in the mirror each morning.

I hurried after House, wanting to help him get back to the car. Wanting to tell him that it wasn't his fault that Wilson died. But I had a feeling that even if I said that, he wouldn't believe me. He wouldn't forgive himself. Ever.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE: The Sixth Tuesday, We Talk About Emotions

It had been a week since I had last seen House at the funeral. He had rushed off, despite his leg basically breaking while he ran. I never got the chance to tell him what I wanted to. I tried calling but he never answered. So the next Tuesday, I thought it was a perfect time to go see him.

I wasn't really sure if the Tuesday meetings were still on, and I knew that House probably didn't want to talk to me, or anyone, but I still found myself at his house the next week, ringing the doorbell like nothing had changed.

When I walked into his room, he sat watching General Hospital. He looked better, but I knew he really wasn't.

"Um, hi, House," I said as I walked in. He looked up from the TV and motioned to the table, where I took my seat. Five minutes went by before House turned the set off and joined me.

We were silent for a while before I said quietly, "It wasn't your fault, you know."

House looked at me with mock confusion. "What wasn't my fault? The stock dropping today? The starvation in Africa? Or the fact that you happened to show up when I was only half way through General Hospital?"

I was getting frustrated already. "You know what I'm talking about."

House sighed. "I don't want to talk about it. After all, this is a Tuesday, a day for intellectual discussions, not a day for unwanted therapy."

"We could have an intellectual discussion about it. We could talk about guilt, sadness…" I offered.

"I don't feel guilty," House said. "I don't feel sad either."

I quickly responded, "What? You must feel something."

"Nope, nothing,"

"Just last week you said you felt…"

House sang mockingly, "I wonder where all the guilt went, when I brushed my teeth with Pepsodent!"

I sighed in irritation. "Come on, House. How can you joke about something like this? I know you feel very strongly about what happened, just talk about it. That's what you've taught me to do!"

House lowered his eyes. "I really don't feel anything, Chase. I'm numb now. I was overwhelmed with remorse and guilt and despondency, but then I thought "Why put myself through all these emotions, when I can choose to just not care?"

I was appalled at this statement. "House, how can you say that?"

"I just part my lips and words come out. It's an amazing thing, the ability to speak," House said sarcastically.

'Why do I bother?' I thought to myself. "So your plan is just to live a life of numbness? No emotions?"

"That's the plan," House replied casually.

"But House, where would we be without emotions?" I asked, still astounded.

House said, "I don't know where we'd be, but I know what we'd be. A lot happier."  
I counter-argued, "But happy is an emotion, don't you get that?" House didn't say anything. I continued, "You think that you can be happy if you don't care about anything? You think that you can just ignore all the pain and sorrow of the world?"

"I'm going to try," House said softly.

"But House," I persisted, trying to knock some sense into him. "Remember our first Tuesday together? You told me that not all of the world is pain."

After a beat, House replied, "Everybody lies."


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Seventh Tuesday, We Talk About the Fear of Aging

"So…" I uttered, trying to break the silence that had been going on for quite some time. I had invited House out for a cup of coffee at my favorite café, Village Coffeehouse, hoping that a change of scenery would give House a new sense of hope or happiness. I had thought that maybe he had just been cooped up too long in that house of his, and that seeing the world would reawaken his spirit. I was wrong.

If anything, House seemed to be in a worse mood than he usually was. He complained about his aches and pains the whole way there, and would make a demeaning remark every five seconds. It irritated the heck out of me, but it also made me happy, because at least he was feeling something and expressing his emotions. I was so afraid that he never would again.

So, we arrived at the coffeehouse and sat outside. We didn't really have anything to talk about, so we sat in silence. How I hated that silence. "So…" I said. "What have you been thinking about lately?"  
House sighed. "Oh, nothing really, except the fact that I'm going to die in about two months."

My heart froze. "Two months? That's all you have?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Yeah. That's it," House said quietly.

The waiter came and brought us our coffee. "House…how do you feel about it? Not about your death. About your life."

"How do I feel about my life? I don't know. I just wish it wasn't over yet."

I lowered my eyes. "Do you think you accomplished everything you wanted to?"

"No. I wanted to be the King of England, drummer for the Rolling Stones…I wanted to trade in one wife for a younger, prettier one. But some things you just can't get around to," House replied. "What about you, Chase? Are you afraid of aging and then realizing your life was a complete waste of time?"

"No, I'd never think that. I've saved lives. My life wasn't a waste, and neither was yours," I answered.

House said, "Yeah, but for you personally. Do you fear getting old and feeling somehow unsatisfied with yourself?"

"Yes, I guess I do fear aging a little. You never know how you're going to feel about your life when you're on your deathbed. You might look back and realize one little thing you wish you'd done,"

"But what does it really matter anyway? Dying without regret or guilt? What does it matter? In a few seconds, you're not going to feel those things anymore anyway. So why live life in hope that on your deathbed you will die happy? It's probably impossible to die happy anyway," House remarked.  
At that moment, before I could respond, it started raining outside. House got up and began to hurry inside, but I pulled him back.

"What are you doing, Chase?" he asked irritably.

"Come on, let's go run in the rain with our shoes off!" I chirped.

House's eyes widened. "I've got a better idea. Let's go drive to Arkham Asylum and get you properly committed along with the Joker, Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and all the other loonies. And then we can come up with a cute costumed killer name for you! Like…Dr. Wombat. Ooh, sounds scary, doesn't it?"

"House, I'm serious. Let's go have some fun in the rain," I persisted, pulling House along with me.

"Why?"  
"Because it might be our last chance to do so," I finally said.

House said, "It'll probably rain in a few weeks, we can go run about then. But didn't we just go over this, Chase? I don't care if I die with regrets."

"But I do," I said.

House looked confused. "This won't be your last chance to be in the rain, Chase."

"What if it is?" I asked solemnly.

"I don't see how it could be. You have many more years ahead of you," House said, still perplexed.

I was silent for a moment before saying, "Please, House. Just come with me and have some fun."

"Okay, Chase," House finally gave in.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Eighth Tuesday, We Talk About Money

I came into House's room the next Tuesday. Instantaneously, he threw me a pack of sticky-notes. I clumsily caught them. "What's this?" I asked with confusion.

"They're called sticky-notes."

"Well, yeah, but why are you giving them to me?"

House replied, "Put a sticky-note on everything in this house that you want."  
"For…for when you die?" I asked sadly.

"When did the State the Obvious Game become the new favorite among people? I still vote for Monopoly," House said sarcastically.

Chase looked around the house. "So anything I want here is mine?"

"Yep," House replied. "I was going to half of it all to Wilson, but since he said bye-bye, I guess it all goes to you. The stuff you don't want I'll send to charity."

"Wow, you have a lot of nice things, House. Wouldn't it be easier for me to put a sticky on the things I don't want?" Chase said with a smile.

House responded, "Depends. How much of this stuff are you willing to give to charity? Because I can make it REALLY simple for you, and just say, 'Screw the homeless. Let Chase have everything so he doesn't have to lift a finger and bother to put a sticky-note on it all.' How does that sound?"

Chase suddenly looked guilty. "Oh…yeah, I guess I was being pretty selfish."

"Darn right you were,"

"But you DID say that you wanted me to have whatever I desired of yours,"

House nodded. "Except my boxers. Those are going to Trinity. I think she deserves them. After all, they looked so good on her last night."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe you should decide what you want to give to charity. I don't know the emotional value of anything here."

"Emotional value?" House said, sighing. "Let me ask you this, Chase. If you could take one thing from this house, would you choose the platinum ring or that old teddy bear?"

After pondering for a moment, Chase answered, "The teddy bear."

"The teddy bear? That's just stupid, Chase. Why would someone choose an old stuffed animal over an expensive piece of jewelry?"

"Um…because I assume the bear was an old childhood toy of yours?" I guessed.

House said, "That's right, but you could've very easily been wrong. The bear could've been a present from some woman I don't even know who came by and said, 'I heard about your cancer. Here's a teddy bear.' It could've been 'fake old', made that to look like an antique, but probably only worth $5.00."

"Okay, so your point is?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, not to assume things have emotional value. Secondly, even if it did have emotional value to me, why would it to you? Would it make you a better person to know you took an old toy instead of a piece of quality jewelry? Would it make you feel like you and I are emotionally connected by a shared item or something? Like father passes old bear onto son?" Before I could answer, House continued, "And thirdly, if this selfish motives were not yours, did you think maybe the homeless would benefit more from the platinum ring than the teddy bear? The adults would, surely, but what about the children? They don't know the value of platinum. But I bet they know the value of something to hug when they are alone or scared."

My mind was overcrowded by these notions. "Okay…I agree with what you said, but where do I go from here? Are you telling me to give the expensive things away to charity or the less expensive but more meaningful things away?"

"You figure it out," House said, ending the conversation. At the end of the day, unsure of what House wanted me to do, I ended up giving almost everything to charity. I kept a few things for myself, things I thought meant something to House personally. I wasn't really sure if they meant anything or if they were just clutter, but it make me feel better to have that old teddy bear by my side when I slept.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: It's Coming Down

Fresh glints of snow paved the streets as I walked about town. Autumn had quickly passed, much to my dismay. I hated winter. I wasn't fond of the cold months that seemed to drag by like years, and I couldn't see the magic and beauty of winter that so many others did.

I didn't always hate winter. In fact, when I first moved to America, I was enthralled by it. I'd never seen snow before in my life, so of course, I was fascinated by the soft blanket of pure white that carpeted the city. I was spellbound by the different feeling of Christmas in America versus Christmas in Australia. The warm embraces were the same, but in America, they were literally needed to contrast with the cold weather.

Oh, how I loved the winter months. I used to sit outside every morning, drinking a cup of hot chocolate and watching the snow float down. I'd even make snow angels and snowmen with my friends. Winter was always a time of peace and reflection for me, a time that I looked forward to every year. But over time, along with my happiness, faith, and hope, I lost my love for winter.

I began dreading December. I didn't want to reflect on my life; I didn't want to see how happy others were. The sound of merry caroling hurt my ears, the sight of blissful children hurt my eyes, and the overall essence of love and peace hurt my heart like nothing else.

I envied those people who could be as happy about winter as I once was. I hated them, and I almost embraced those emotions just to prove that winter didn't erase bad feelings; it just denied them for a while.

Sometimes I'd just want to scream, "Winter is the end of things, the season of death and darkness! It's not a time for happiness and renewal. Don't you people see that!" I didn't ever say that even though I believed it to be true. I knew that no one would listen to me anyway. Why would they? They were perfectly content in their make-believe joy.

So there I was, walking around Princeton, hands shoved into the pockets of my jacket. I started thinking back to when I loved winter. When it was a time of splendor for me. I sat down on a bench to think when a familiar song flooded into my mind.

_Snowflakes fall like velvet_

_From iron-colored skies_

_Somehow I can't help it_

_I feel my spirits rise_

_Streetlamps aglow_

_Time to take it slow_

_It's coming down_

_Crystal branches glisten_

_Like diamonds over me_

_Frozen in position_

_A silent symphony_

_Sidewalks white and clean_

_Perfect and pristine_

_It's coming down_

_It's coming down_

_And all my blues disappear_

_And this old town is up again  
Grew back the years  
Because the world looks like new_

_Or at least that's the view_

_From here, from here_

_It's cold here by the river_

_But I don't feel it much _

_The moon's a silver sliver_

_Close enough to touch_

_Storm clouds drift away_

_A star comes out to play_

_It's coming down_

_It's coming down._

I used to love that song. I used to listen to it over and over as I watched the snow, a serene and purely happy smile on my face. I used to see the beauty of winter more clearly than anyone. I used to feel the magic winter in my heart. I used to understand the importance of a time for quiet harmony, abundant love, and shared happiness. I used to love winter. But not anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Ninth Tuesday, We Talk About How Love Goes On

"Sure, I want to leave a legacy behind. I want to be remembered when I die," House said. "But I don't think I will be."

"How can you say that? You've helped so many people," I argued.

House shrugged. "Yeah, but what about when those people die? Perhaps their children will vaguely remember my name as the doctor that saved their mommy or daddy, but after that, poof. It'll be like I never even existed."

"That's terrible, that someone could lead a life as great as yours and not be remembered," I said desolately.

House replied, "Well…it's not like I invented the lightbulb or something."

"No, but…"

"Chase, you're going to have to face the fact that after you're gone, no one will remember you. Your name will only cross the minds of those who happen to walk by your gravestone while visiting someone much more important than you," House said. "You'll be like John Keats. 'Here lies one whose name is writ on water.'"

I sighed, rubbing my closed eyes in both exasperation and exhaustion. "Something must be everlasting, House. Something about each of us must go on."

"What makes you think that, Chase?"  
I shrugged. "I just think…what would be the point of life if when it's over, it's…really over?"

"Lives end. Everybody dies," House remarked.

"Yes, LIVES end, but the existence of a person? Don't you find it a abandoned feeling to know that once you're dead, your name will never be thought of again except by those few who love you, and after they die…you'll be just another gravestone?" I questioned, hoping House would give me a real answer.  
And he did, to my surprise. "Yes, but that is what life is for, isn't it? I think most people live their lives with one of two ultimate goals in mind. They either live to be happy or they live to be remembered. And they usually don't come hand in hand."

"What do you think is more important?" I asked.

House replied, "It all depends on the person. I've never been happy, so I guess being remembered is more important to me, but it looks like I won't get that one accomplished either."

"I'll always remember you, House," I said quietly.

"So what? You'll remember me, I'll remember you, and that's as far as it'll go."

I thought for a moment before responding, "House, maybe life doesn't go on, and maybe not everyone will remember you or know your name, but I know one thing to be true."

"And what's that?"

"Love goes on," I told him. "And that's how you'll be remembered. You've made me a better person, House. And maybe this better person I've become has made someone else better, and so on. You pass love to me, and I pass it on to someone else. It's timeless and certainly everlasting."

House nodded sadly. "I guess so. I just wish my name didn't have to be writ on water."

"Why? Lakes are beautiful, oceans are magnificent, and rivers never end."


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Tenth Tuesday, We Talk About Marriage

House took a long sip of hot chocolate. He and I were sitting in front of a glowing, warm fire as it snowed heavily outside. Bundled up in several blankets, I sat and, with trembling hands, brought my own cup to my lips.

"Ah, that's delightful, isn't it?" I said. House nodded, his eyes unreadable and ethereal.

"House?"

"Yeah?" House said, snapping out of his daze. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

I chuckled. "What else is new?"

"You know, this would be a lot more romantic with a girl. Sitting in front of a fire on the coldest day of the year," House commented. "But I couldn't find one, so you are the closest thing."

I rolled my eyes, but my smile never left my face. "Yeah, I know. Christmas is such a romantic time. I remember my first Christmas being married to Alison. We got married December 8th, actually, so my favorite holiday was right around the corner. We were just getting adjusted to married life, but it didn't take long for us. And then Christmas came. We were so joyous, I recall, laughing and exchanging gifts during the day, snuggling by the fire at night."

House looked over at me with a glint of happiness in his eyes. He saw the same glint in mine for once. "You seemed really happy together."

"We were," I sighed. "But things always change. I wanted to move back to Princeton, she didn't. I wanted children, she didn't. And so many other things. Marriages never really work out in this day and age, do they?"  
House shrugged. "I don't know. The only woman I ever loved was Stacy Warner, remember her?" I nodded. "Well, I truly thought that it would be an everlasting love, but look at me now. She left me about thirty years ago, and I still haven't moved on. I guess I never will."  
"Do you believe in soulmates?" I asked. "Do you think there is just one single person you are meant to be with and all the others are just…?"  
"I don't know, Chase," House answered quietly. I waited for an elaborated response, but I didn't get one for several minutes until House continued, "I hope not, anyway. If Stacy was the only woman I was meant to be with, then I am going to die alone. If she wasn't the one I was meant to be with, I could never know that and I wouldn't look further. So, either way, I would die alone."

"So, what you're saying is, there's no way to know if someone is or was your soulmate, but you can't spend your life looking for one either, because you'll never know?"

"Exactly."  
I said, "Well, I'm not going to spend the rest of my life thinking Alison was my soulmate and there is no one else. I think there is always someone else for everybody. Maybe they are not your soulmate, maybe they are, but you'll never be happy if you just stop looking."

House looked over at me but said nothing.

"I mean," I continued. "I'd rather spend the rest of my life married to a woman I love, not ever knowing if she's my soulmate or not, than being limited to knowing who my soulmate is, but never being able to have her."

"I despise uncertainty," was House's only reply.

"And you also despise loneliness," I acknowledged. "You'll have to be able to live with one of them, House. You can't be absolutely certain about everything in life. And you can't be certain about everything in love either. That wouldn't be love. Love is supposed to be exciting, new, and it couldn't be that way if you were sure of everything about it."

House responded, "I just don't want to get hurt again."

I nodded understandingly. "Neither do I."

"But I guess you have to choose, right? Your risks and whether it's worth it?" House questioned.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Easier said than done, though," House remarked, taking another long sip from his hot chocolate. House and I were silent as we watched the tangerine flames dance before us. Soon, I said I had to leave.

As I walked out the door, I saw Trinity cleaning the house. My heart beat faster. "Trinity?"

Trinity turned around, her long, flowing blonde hair bouncing off her shoulders flawlessly. Her bright eyes were excited under her thick, long lashes. My palms were getting sweaty. I wanted to ask her out more than anything. I had wanted to since the day I saw her, but I had always been too afraid of getting hurt like I did so many times before.

"Yes?" she asked.  
I hesitated. "Um…nothing. Nevermind." I left shortly after.

I'd always been too afraid, and this time was no different. I cursed myself for being such a coward. I beat myself up for being such a hypocrite. Telling House to take a chance in love when I didn't even have the valor to. Thinking back on all the times I was too afraid, I only felt better when listening to the voice in my head tell me repeatedly, 'There's always next time.' I just hoped the voice was right.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Happiness

I walked up to House's door, clad in a handsome dark blue blazer which the lady in the store said brought out my eyes. I had trimmed my long waves of blond and even joined a gym. I was determined to look my best that Tuesday, for it was the Tuesday when I left my fear behind.  
I had been thinking a lot about my last encounter with the woman of my dreams. How I hated myself afterwards for being such a coward. 'Well, no more!' I thought the next day. 'No more fear, no more pain.' It was sort of a promise I made to myself, a goal that my heart was set on reaching. Fear had held me back my whole life, but I wasn't about to let it win this race. And there certainly was a race. My heart was sprinting at 60 miles per hour.

After long introspection, which I knew could be either very dangerous or enlightening, I had a revelation. There was no reason why I shouldn't have been happy. I was wealthy, handsome, intelligent…I had a life that others would kill or die for.

And yet, here I was, miserable as always, cowardly as always, and I realized that all that pain was self-inflicted. Not in the way House likes to accuse me of, but still. I was in control of my happiness.

If I wanted to be joyful, I could. If I wanted to be fearless, I could. I was in control. I had never felt like that before. I had always felt like someone else was responsible for my happiness. First my parents, then my friends, then my job, then Alison…all of which failed to bring me the bliss I had so long sought after.

Why hadn't I realized it sooner? It could've saved me a lot of pain if I just saw that I was my own responsibility. Others can contribute to your happiness, but they can't MAKE you happy. Only you can do that for yourself.

Well, at least I realized it then, while there was still time to set things right in my life. I knew that all my problems couldn't be solved with this revelation, and that it would take time to fully get over my long-winded depression, but I had hope. I had hope like I never had before, and that feeling was like the sweetest bar of creamy milk chocolate. I savored every moment and kept craving more.

As I approached House's door, I had a rare smile on my face. I was going to ask Trinity out to dinner. I was nervous, of course, but not afraid. I was more excited than anything. I was confident she'd accept the invitation and who knows what the evening could bring?

I had a good feeling about that girl, a really good feeling. Not like I had with Alison. When I met Alison, I thought, 'Now there is a beautiful, smart young woman. There is a beautiful, smart young woman who is head over heels in love with our 40-something-year-old acrimonious, crippled boss.'

I couldn't figure it out. As much as I admired and genuinely liked House, I felt jealous over Alison's bewildering affections for him. Now looking back on our romance, I think it was all based on jealousy. I was never really in love with Alison. I just couldn't accept when that a girl wanted an atrabilious misanthrope over me. When I finally got her, it was a huge victory, but an even huger mistake.

But with Trinity it was different. I could feel it. When I first met her, I could literally feel the light within her, the perpetual warmth. There were no bad feelings, only good. She made me feel safe and loved, although I knew there was no way she could love someone she just met. Still, the emotion was new and one that I knew I wanted to feel again.

And I was ready to. I knocked on the door, prepared to at once see Trinity's beautiful, glowing face. Instead, I was greeted by the glowering one of House.

"H-house?" I stammered.

House replied, "Big surprise! Break out the piñata and chocolate ice cream cake! You did bring chocolate ice cream cake, didn't you?"

I shook my head in confusion. "Where's Trinity?"

"She moved to Italy for business," House answered casually. "Come in, we have lots of intellectual discussions awaiting us."  
"What!" I shouted. "Sh-she m-moved to Italy?"

"Y-y-y-yes," House quipped back mockingly.

"For business? What kind of business?"

House responded, "The kind where people make money for doing stuff. I know, it's rare, but it does exist."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "She got another job? Doing what?"

"Stuff."  
"Stop it, House! I'm serious! Answer me," I replied almost furiously.

House was taken aback, and he quietly answered, "She's an artist. Whenever she had free time here, she'd paint. It was her real passion. This job was just to make a little money so she could go to Italy. And I knew that. That's exactly why I hired her. I knew I didn't have long, and besides…her art often brought a little vibrancy that would be otherwise lacking from this house."

I nodded solemnly. "So, she won't be coming back?" I felt like a little boy who just found out that Santa Claus wasn't real.

"Maybe your baby-blues will send her flying back across the country," House said, then realizing my deep sorrow, added with a tone of indisputable sympathy, "but I highly doubt it, Chase."

My happiness depleted just as quickly and dramatically as it came. I kept trying to tell myself that I was in control of my own happiness, but the words just didn't seem as convincing as they once did.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN: The Eleventh Tuesday, We Talk About Our Culture

"With the departure of our good friend Trinity, I thought a good discussion topic would be our culture," House said as I sat down beside him.

I sighed. "Don't talk about Trinity. It'll only make me depressed."

"Culture is a funny thing, isn't it?" House asked rhetorically, ignoring my request. "Especially here in America."

"Things are getting bad here," I commented.

House eyed me with his sparkling sapphires. "Care to elaborate on that, Mr. I'm-Australian-So-I'm-Too-Good-For-All-These-Bloody-American-Relpusions?"

I snickered slightly. "Well, don't you agree? I mean, for starters, look how barbarically discourteous everyone seems to be."

Feigning hurt feelings, House whimpered, "Is that supposed to be a knock at me?"

I shook my head, saying, "Of course not. I just mean that…well, look around. It's quite frightening really. We pass people on the street and if we smile or wave, it's almost daring fore we do not know what we shall get in return. We only laugh at things that are inhumane or grotesque, instead of laughing when things are genuinely SUPPOSED to make us laugh. Oh, I could go on and on, and I am sure you could as well."

"I do see your points, Chase. And you're right, I could name a few dozen more things that are wrong with society. Laziness, ignorance, crime…Why do think it is this way?" House asked.

I shrugged. "How would we ever know?"

"Let's see. When did things start getting funky? 50's were a pretty clean time. 60's…starting getting into drugs and such, but not like today. 70's, more drugs. 80's, more drugs. 90's…well, all of it. What happened?"

"Drugs seem to play a role."

"Maybe, but I know plenty of people who have never met Mary Jane or Coco Cane but they are as rude, lazy, and stupid as the next person."

I replied, "Yeah, me too. Hmmm…well, maybe it has to do with the whole idea of being an adult. All the kids want to grow up faster and all the adults want them to. Kids want to have the right of adults, adults want kids to have the responsibilities."

House leaned forward excitedly. "Yeah, yeah, that's good, Chase. And I think you're right. Well, at least partially. I don't think even Sherlock Holmes could deduct every component to our failing society, but when kids hit twelve they seem to think they are independent. They are allowed to swear, talk about sex, everything just like adults. That's the not the way it should be. I mean, granted it's just as bad to treat children like babies. They are smarter than they look and should be treated with respect, but middle schoolers doing drugs and having sex? That's just…unbelievable."

"I know. It is. But it's not just the kids. Adults can be pretty nasty as well."

"You know what, Chase? I think everyone needs to turn off the TV, sit down with a beautiful piece of literature, and then discuss it with friends and family," House said.

I was confused. "Yes, that does sound nice, but what does that have to do with our societal strife?"

"Think about it. It covers a lot of the bases. First of all, choosing books instead of TV. I admit I couldn't live without General Hospital and the O.C., but so few adults or kids enjoy reading these days, and even less, talking. Discussing. Opening their minds to new ideas. That covers laziness, lack of communication, ignorance, minds filled with nothing but celebrities, sex, and probably about a billion other things."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're onto something as well. Don't grow up too fast or think you're too old to improve yourself," I said, smiling. "I like the sound of that."


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY: The Twelfth Tuesday, We Talk About Forgiveness

House and I were strolling around the neighborhood leisurely, talking of course as we always did. Winter was beginning to pass, and it was quite noticeable in Princeton. The snow was melting, yet there were still glimpses of pearl among the waterfall of colors that surrounded the town. Spring blossoms were blooming with more radiance than I had ever seen. I picked up a luminescent yellow daisy.

House noticed this and said, "Oh, how cute. She loves me, she loves me not."

I sighed, my spirit quickly diminishing. "I have no one to love." I threw the daisy to the ground.

House rolled his eyes. "Chase, you get depressed way too easily."

I shrugged, not feeling like once again facing my depression.

"You know what your problem is?"

"You?" I snapped.

"I'd watch what you say, Australian Beauty. I have a cane, and I'm not afraid to use it," House replied. "But really, your problems are rooted from your self-loathing and from your misgivings about your fellow man."

Putting my hands to my head in frustration, I said, "House, I have a headache."

"Now you know how I feel when I talk to you. Pleasant, isn't it?"

I put my hands down and shoved them in the pockets of my jacket. "Okay, so my self-loathing and misgivings about my fellow man? What's that supposed to mean?"

House looked over at me. "What do you think it means? You hate yourself and your hate everyone around you."

"That is so not true!"

"Oh, I guess it's just a rumor then. Probably Beth spread it. She is SUCH a gossip!" House exclaimed in response. "Face it, Chase. You hate yourself."

"No, I…well, why shouldn't I?"

"Why should you, is what I'm still trying to figure out. Sure, you're effeminate, a wuss, a backstabber, a pretty, rich boy, someone who gets everything he wants from money, a slacker, a divorcee, a user, an idiot, a…"

"That's enough!" I screamed.

House was taken aback. "Finally, Chase, show some pride. You let me call you like ten horrible things and took it all. Do you really believe those things about yourself?"  
I nodded sadly. "It was all true."

House stopped in his tracks and faced me, anger in his eyes. "No, it wasn't! None of it was true. Listen to me, Chase, and listen well. You are a good person. You are kind, compassionate, an exceptional doctor, caring, funny, introspective, brave, hard-working, and you put up with me for so many years and continue to do so! And you still hate yourself?"

"House, thank you, but I…just don't see myself they way you do."

"You have to forgive yourself, Chase. I don't know what happened to you to make you abhor yourself they way you do, but something's gotta give," House said. "I have an idea. Why don't you write down everything you don't like about yourself, then write down everything good about yourself. Look at the first list, make better what you can, and things that you can't control, let go of. Forgive yourself. It can only lead to destruction if you hold onto your mistakes. Everyone makes them, Chase. Even me. I know that's about as hard to believe as anything, but it's true."

I nodded.

"And Chase? Forgive those around you. No one's perfect, and people will disappoint you again and again, but you have to forgive."

"I will try, House. If you will."

House sighed. "That's a different story, Chase."

"Why? You said it yourself, everyone makes mistakes. You're not perfect, no one is. Why can't you forgive yourself and others?"

"Because if I made a list of my bad and good qualities, I'd see about fifty bad and five good. And because…well, if you can't forgive yourself, there's no way you can forgive the world."


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Last Time I Saw Her Face

I had been thinking a lot about what House and I had discussed the last Tuesday. Forgiveness. I wasn't sure if I could ever love or forgive myself, but I wanted to try and forgive those I was resentful of. Although House thought that if you didn't forgive yourself, you couldn't forgive anyone else, I had a different view. How could you forgive yourself if you're still holding onto anger and regret provoked by others? It didn't seem possible in my mind. So I decided to put my anger to rest. Starting with the person who angered me most.

I knew she still lived there. It was her favorite place in the world, and I knew she would never leave. I drove a while to Newark, anxious but never turning back. It had to be done. I had to make peace with her, or I would never move on with my life.

The house was as beautiful as I remembered. Cobblestones lined the pathway to the house, which radiated warmth and light. I remembered a time when the lights were the only things to keep me company on my late nights on the couch. I saw a little swing on the front porch. It took me back to the times Alison and I would snuggle up and look at the stars outside. But it also reminded me of how lonely the stars looked when I swung alone.

Nothing had changed about the appearance of our domicile. Maybe she hadn't moved on either. Maybe there was still a chance we could work things out.

I walked up to the door and rang the bell. Almost immediately, someone answered. A little girl, with beautiful, curly blonde hair and big, green eyes. I guess Alison had definitely moved on. The girl looked up at me with a sweet smile on her face. "Hi," she piped.

My voice was cracked. "H-hi. Is your mommy home?" Calling Alison a mommy made me want to run home and cry.

She nodded. "Mommy! There's a man at the door for you!" She ran up to Alison, who was fast approaching. "He's from England!" she exclaimed excitedly. Alison patted her head affectionately as she walked to the door.

Alison looked up at me and stopped in her tracks. "Robert…"

"Alison."

Before saying anything else, Alison looked down at her daughter and said, "Kaelise, can you help your brother in the kitchen while I talk to my old friend?"

"Sure, Mommy," Kaelise chirped as she scurried off.

After a moment of staring at me, Alison said, "Um, would you like to come in?"

I nodded as she led me in. "Kaelise is beautiful," I commented.

"Thank you."

"She almost looks like she could be our kid. My hair and your eyes."

Alison sighed. "Well, she's not, Robert."

"I know," I said. There was an awkward silence. God, I hated those. "Alison, I know you're probably wondering why I came."

"Yes, I was."

"Well, it's just…" I didn't know how to explain it. "I've been trying to be a better person, and I realized that to do that, I have to put my past behind me. And you are a big part of who I was before, so…"

Alison responded, "I understand, Robert. I have been doing the same thing for years. Trying to get over you."

"I suppose you have accomplished that already."

"It seems so," she said. "Well, would you like to stay for dinner?"

I wanted to tell her the honest truth: No, I don't want to meet my replacement and the children that should've been mine. No, I don't want to stay through an endless meal and 'catch up.' But instead, I answered, "Yes, that'd be nice."

Alison smiled and walked into the kitchen, from where I heard laughter and blissful conversation. "Everyone, there's someone here I'd like you to meet."

Her family all came out into the family room. "This is Robert Chase, my old friend."

Friend. I hated being called that. I smiled at her family. "Pleasure to meet you all."

Alison's husband, a tall, blonde athletic-type, asked Alison quietly, "Robert Chase? Isn't he…?"

"Yes, but he just came here to talk," she answered, then turning to me, continued, "This is my husband, Edmund."

Edmund stuck out his hand hesitantly. "Nice to finally meet you, Robert."

"Pleasure's all mine," I lied.

"And these are my children: Bobby and Kaelise, you already met."  
Bobby waved to me. "Hi, Mr. Chase."

"Hi, Bobby." Bobby. He must have been named after me.

Alison told her family, "Well, Robert is going to be staying for dinner, so let's all make him feel at home." Home. It IS my home, I thought.

We all ambled into the kitchen, the smell of zucchini appetizer filling the room. Alison had a seat for me between her and Kaelise. After dinner was served, we began making small talk. The worst part of any dinner, in my opinion.

"So, Robert, how have you been doing?" Alison asked.

"Good," I answered, although I wanted to say, 'Oh, I've been going through clinical depression.'

Alison nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Are you still a doctor?" I asked.

"Yes. At Morgan-Daye Hospital," she answered. "You?"

Everyone's eyes were on me. I had to lie again. "Yes, I'm still a doctor," I said, but I thought if I was going to lie, I'd better make it a good one. "Actually, I'm the department head of intensive care at Malenthia Hospital."

Alison's olive eyes widen like her smile did. "Wow, Robert, that's wonderful!"

"Thank you," I said, stuffing more zucchini appetizer in my mouth.

Edmund had been watching us the whole time. He finally decided to put a word in. "So, are you married, Robert?"

Alison gave him a look and kicked him under the table.

"No, it's okay, Alison. Yes, I'm married," I lied again.

Alison looked at me with her 'jealous blush'. "How did you two meet?"  
"She was House's physical trainer."

Alison exclaimed, "You've seen House recently?"

Finally, I didn't have to lie. "Yes, I've been seeing him for a while."

The whole night went on like this. Small talk after small talk. Lie after lie. When dinner was over, I made my way to the door. "Goodnight, Robert."

"Goodnight, Alison," I returned. "It was really nice seeing you again."

"You too. Take care," she said.  
I began to walk down the steps to my car but decided to turn around. I couldn't leave like that. "Alison," I said, just before she closed the door.  
"Yes?"

"I've been lying to you the entire evening," I confessed.

Alison, aside from looking shocked, closed the door behind her and approached me. "You have?"

"Yes. I am not doing good. I'm doing quite horrible. I've been diagnosed with clinical depression, which I've been suffering from for as long as I can remember. I am unemployed and living off my family's money, which I swore I would never do. I have no children. I am not married. The girl I told you about, well, she is just someone I wish I had the chance to love, but I don't. I was a coward and an idiot not to ask her out when I wanted to, and she left the next week to go to Italy. I have no one except House as my friend. I am trapped in despair and hopelessness. I hate myself, and I don't think that'll ever change, no matter how hard I try. And I have been trying really hard, Alison. I have…" I began to cry. How embarrassing, I thought, but the thought quickly passed as I realized that I had needed to cry for some time.

Alison put my head on her shoulder. "Robert, Robert, it's going to be okay. I promise."

Suddenly, I became furious. "How do you know it's going to be okay? For you, yeah, everything's perfect, isn't it? You just HAD to make me sit through dinner as you showed-off your faultless little family, didn't you? And that's another thing. One of the reasons we got a divorce is that you didn't want children! Now you have some. Just trying to push it in, aren't you?"

Alison stepped back. "Is that what you really think of me, Robert?"

I turned around, shaking my head. "I don't know what to think about anything anymore, Alison."

"I am not against you. I want to help you. I care about you more than you know," she said.

"No one cares about me."

"Stop that, Robert. Stop saying that!" she exclaimed angrily. "I lied to you tonight too, Robert."

I turned and looked at her, astonishment patent on my face. "About what?"

"About not being over you. About all this," she said, motioning to her house. "It's not as perfect as you think it is."

"It's not?"  
Alison shook her head desolately. "Not even close. Edmund and I have been going through some difficult times right now, with money and raising the kids, and we've been growing farther and farther apart."

"I see," I remarked. "Why did we feel like we had to lie to each other, Alison?"

"Well, I didn't want you to think I couldn't hold my life together without you, but I guess it's true."

"Well, look at me. I've done a marvelous job of holding my life together without you, too," I replied, laughing.

She giggled that musical, girlish giggle of hers. "Aren't we a pair, Robert?"

"Yes, we are." I smiled.

"Listen. Do you think you can come back next Thursday? We can talk," Alison suggested.

I nodded. "I think that's a wonderful idea."  
She gave me a long hug, which I returned warmly. "I guess I'll see you next week, then."

"Okay. Goodnight," I said. She walked up to the door. "Oh, and Alison?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I've really needed another friend," I told her. "And I think I've finally found one."


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Thirteenth Tuesday, We Talk About the Perfect Day

"Do you think perfection is possible?" I asked House the next Tuesday.

House smirked, and I knew that sarcasm was sure to follow that smirk. "Wow, Chase. I've been called handsome, intriguing, brilliant, but never perfect before! Nice way to come out of the closet."

Ignoring his comment, I proceeded to say, "Because I was thinking. About what the perfect day would be like."

"The perfect day?"

"Yeah," I said. "I don't think it would be possible, though."

House tapped his cane rhythmically on the wall as he thought. "What do you think the perfect day would be?"

"I don't know, actually. I can't actually imagine it. I can just feel it. You know what I mean?" I asked.

House chuckled. "Aside from you sounding like a seventeen-year-old wannabe on a marijuana high, what you say makes sense. You can feel that indefatigable joy, but you don't know how to get there. I get it."

I nodded. "I think I'd go back to Australia."

House, surprised, looked at me. "Why?"

"It's my home."

"Chase, you've been living in America for what? 25 years?"

"Something like that," I answered.

House asked, "Well, what would you do back in Australia, then? Haven't you made all your friends and opportunities here?"

"Look around me, House. I don't have any friends, and I don't have any opportunities."

House looked hurt. Not his usual feigned hurt, but bona fide hurt. "No friends?"

I sighed, realizing the mistake. "Besides you, of course."  
House smiled again. "What about Cam-moron? Didn't you say things went well with her last week?"  
"Yes, they did, but…well, I guess I'd consider her my friend, but…"

"But like you said, Australia is your home," House finished.

I shrugged. "I don't know if it's just that, though. I just want to get out of here. I just feel trapped so often, and I feel like there's something out there calling me. My purpose isn't done. And I think that my perfect day would be spent finding that purpose, wherever in the world it may be. I just want to feel what you've felt all your life, like something you do matters. That fulfillment, that passion. I would want to be surrounded by friends and family and love of every kind, paternal, fraternal, romantic, platonic…just an abundance of love…that would be the perfect day."

After a moment of silence, House spoke. "I think I know what my perfect day would be."

I leaned in, intrigued. "What?"

"Hearing this may make you go into anaphylactic shock, so I'd be careful if I were you," House said. I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Okay. My perfect day would be a day when the sun is shining brighter than it ever has. Birds are singing…Rolling Stones' songs," he chuckled. "And I get out of bed, my leg fully healed, and walk…no, run…to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I walk in and see my good old friend Cuddy, sporting a lower-cut blouse than usual, if that's possible. I see Wilson…I see us walking down the hall, talking and laughing. He was the only one who could make me laugh. And then I walk into my office. There's you, doing your silly, little crosswords. Cameron, answering my emails, and Foreman, handing me a file filled with information about our next patient," House looked down thoughtfully. "That's my idea of a perfect day."


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Perfection Realized

I knocked on House's door.  
"Come in," House called. I opened it and saw him sitting on the bed watching General Hospital. I watched him affectionately for a moment until he noticed. "What's wrong with you? Am I starting to look like Trinity or something?"

I laughed. "Come on, House. Let's go for a drive."

"A drive? Where?"

"It's a surprise," I said as I walked of his room, expecting him to follow. He didn't, so I had to come back and drag him out of his room.

House moaned, "Chase! General Hos-"

"I know, I know. General Hospital is on. But trust me, you'll like this a lot better," I told him.

"I doubt it," House muttered under his breath.

We drove for a little while, House, all the while, complaining about missing the episode where Tony finds out something important. What exactly, I didn't know, because frankly, I wasn't paying much attention. I was nervous for what was to come. I wanted everything to be perfect.

We approached a familiar street where I parked the car. We got out and went on a walk.

"I can't heal your leg, House," I said solemnly, as we ambled side by side.

House looked at me, confounded. "Excuse me if I'm mistaken, but have I ever asked you to? I wouldn't even let you touch my leg."

I smiled. "No," I started. "It's just that…well, look over there." I pointed further up the street.

"My eyes aren't as good as they used to be, Bobby," House said. "But they are as beautiful, aren't they?"

"Very funny, but don't you see what I see up ahead?" I interrogated.

House looked, as we got closer. "Cor love a duck! Is that a whorehouse! Chase, you've made my day!" he replied sarcastically. He laughed, but suddenly stopped when he saw clearly what it was. WHO it was.

The look on House's face was absolutely priceless. It was that moment of astonished and vulnerable joy as he laid eyes upon Cuddy, Foreman, Cameron, and the familiar teaching hospital they stood in front of.

I smiled as I led the still flabbergasted House to the old gang. "Chase…how? Why?"

"I wanted to give you your perfect day."

House shook his head in wonder. "But you got all of them here…here at Princeton-Plainsboro…this really means a great deal to me, you don't know."

I laughed. "You know you've gotten mushy in your old age, right?"

House glowered with a dangerous smirk on his face. "But I'm still tough as nails." He punched me in the arm.

"Ow!" It actually hurt. Laughing, we made our way across the street.

"SURPRISE!" everyone sang as we approached.

House riposted, "Not really. I saw you guys from a mile away." He winked at me.

Cuddy was the first to give House a hug, which House looked like he most enjoyed.

"Wow, Cuddy. Your funbags are as nice as ever, even though you're like seventy!" House exclaimed, pleased.

Cuddy replied, "Mentioning a woman's bosom AND her age in one sentence. How DO you do it, House?"

Foreman, next, came up. House and he both hesitated, but eventually they gave into a hug as well. "It's nice to see you again, House."

"You too, Eric," House said purposefully to get on Foreman's nerves. Foreman rolled his eyes. Cameron approached.

House sighed, "Oh, no, not another hug! Gosh, guys. You're getting soft."

Cameron smiled as she put her arms around House. House closed his eyes, seeming to savor the moment. "Thank you for coming," he whispered.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," she said back.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" I exclaimed. "We have patients to save!"

Foreman responded sardonically, "Oh, yeah. Supermen and Superwomen to the rescue."

House asked, "What do you mean, 'patients to save'?"

"Well, maybe not literally, but I thought we could tour the hospital once more before we part ways."

Everyone nodded, saying, "Sounds good."

We walked into the memorable building. A lot seem to have changed. Of course, they had hired a new staff of pretty young nurses and the department of diagnostics was now headed by one 'Dr. Petra Gilmar'. But as we looked inside, as the doctors wrote furiously on the white-boards, even one doing a crossword, and saw the patients leaving the hospital, tears glistening from inexpressible, empyrean joy, saved and more alive than ever, we all felt that nothing had changed at all.

As I saw the doctors at work and the look on the faces of the patients as the left healed, I felt a stab at my heart that I hadn't felt for years. That longing, that passion for what I did. I saw the same emotion patent on House's face.

After we left the hospital, we all went out to dinner and caught up. It turned out that Foreman had become the dean of medicine at a hospital in Boston. He got married and had two children, Jamal and Elisa. Jamal wanted to be teacher, he said, and Elisa aspired to be a dancer. "Heh. I guess neither of them got the 'healing bug,'" he joked. "I can see why though. Whenever they got some sniffles or a flu, I'd be on them like…like…"

"Stink on cheese?" I offered my best metaphor.

He laughed. "Yeah. Like stink on cheese. I remember the first time my little girl had a cough and runny nose. She seemed panicked. She came up to me and said, 'What do you think is wrong with me, Daddy?' And I replied, 'Looks like Nasopharyngitis.' But that just scared her more. She was like, 'What's that!' Correcting myself, I said, 'It's just a cold, baby.' Heh. Man, no wonder they were scared off from pursuing medicine."

Cuddy told us that she had married as well, never had children, but was now retired and spent a lot of her time writing books. "I always wanted to be a writer. Finally, I have the chance. Things are really peaceful, now, and being retired allows me a lot of time to pursue my avocations. I mean, there are no more long hours, no more House looking down my shirt…"

"Wrong again, baby. You can never escape me," House told her as he looked at her 'funbags'.

As I already knew, Cameron was married, had children, and was still a doctor. When it got around to me, I merely said, "Well…I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis." I laughed. It felt good to laugh about my problems. "But the good news…I think it's almost over."

Everyone smiled, and we drank a toast to each other.

Later, when I led House back home, he looked at me and said, "Chase, if I wasn't enough proof for you, today truly proved that perfection could be realized."  
I smiled. "So, it really was your perfect day? Because I really wanted it to be."

House nodded. "It was perfect, Chase. And you know why? It wasn't just because I got to see my old friends and the place where I spent most of my life. It's because I saw that you were happy. Truly happy, the first time I seen you like that in a long time. You were surrounded by love, friends, family…and I saw the glint in your eyes back at the hospital. You found your purpose again. And nothing could make my day more perfect that knowing that it was your perfect day too."

I was touched. "Thank you, House."

"Thank YOU, Chase. For making each of my last days perfect."


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Fourteenth Tuesday, We Say Goodbye

From the second I first drove up to House's last summer, I had dreaded this day. This day when House and I would say goodbye. Forever.

The whole way over I tried not to think about it, but it was harder than anything I've ever had to do. I passed the coffee shop where we had run in the rain together and the picturesque, little park where we'd take our strolls. Everything reminded me of the great times we shared together, and I couldn't bare the thought of our friendship ending. But I knew that today was the day it would.

I parked my car on the side of the street and stared at House's house. I willed my hand to open the car door, but it wouldn't cooperate. I looked at it, hanging mid-air, reaching for the handle, trembling. I closed my eyes tightly, although I don't know why I did so. Fear? Denial? I wasn't sure. But I knew that instead of sitting idly in the car, I should've been hastening to House's room. Who knew how much time was left?

With that thought in mind, I ran up to House's door and let myself in. I knocked on the door of his room.

"Chase…" House said weakly from inside.  
I walked in. He looked terrible. It was surprising, seeing as how perfectly good he looked last week.

"House," I started, not knowing what to say. "Today is the day, isn't it?"

"The day you were supposed to have started your period? No, that was last week. You haven't had it?" House questioned mockingly. "You might be pregnant. Oh. My. God."

Tears started cascading down my cheeks.

House said, "Wow, you MUST be pregnant."  
"House, how can you joke at a time like this?" I asked through my weeping.

House's countenance suddenly became solemn and…worried? I had rarely seen House worried. He was always so sure of himself that he needn't ever be worried. "I just…I guess I'm in denial."

"So was I when I was coming here, but we both know what is going to happen. We've known for months."

"I know. I guess it's time to face the music," he replied. "Chase, I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For always being kind of hard on you back in the day. I didn't mean to ever discourage you. I thought it was for the best. I just saw how much potential you had as a doctor and as a person, and I thought you needed a little push in the right direction," House answered.

"Don't ever be sorry. You didn't discourage me. You made me work that much harder, because you were right. I needed a push. I needed your guidance and at times, your criticisms and discipline. How else would I have learned anything?"

House smiled. "You know you were always my favorite docling."  
"Really? I always thought you liked Cameron and Foreman better than me," I said.

House shook his head. "No way. Cameron, she was sweet. Foreman, he was smart. But you were all of the above and more."

Suddenly, I ran over to House and wrapped my arms around him. I went into hysterics. "House, House, don't leave me please. Please, House, don't leave me. I'll never be happy without you. Please…"

"Chase, Chase," House tried to calm me down. "You're going to be okay."  
I shook my head, my face soaked in tears. "No, no, I won't be. I'm nothing without you. Please, don't leave me. I'm begging you."

"Chase, you know I have to. I don't have a choice. If I could stay, I would, you know that, but…"

"But House, what am I going to do? What? I can't live…I can't…" I stuttered. "You are the only source of whatever happiness I have. Coming and seeing you each week is the only thing that's held me back from committing suicide. And believe me, I have been so close so many times."

A tear went down House's cheek. "You are going to survive without me."

"No…"

"Yes, you are. And you are going to be successful and happy," House said, his voice feeble. "You are a wonderful person, with or without me."

I tried to breathe through my whimpers. "How can you say that? You've made me who I am today."

"And you have done the same to me. I would be dying here, miserable, self-loathing, regretful, and alone if not for you. Instead, I feel proud of my existence, content in my life's end, knowing that I helped raise a man who has made me more proud, happy, and loved than anyone else could."

"House, you don't know how much I love you," I said.

"What are you going to tell me next? That you're obsessed with shoes and watch soap operas?" House remarked. "Oh, wait. That sounds like me."

I laughed, wiping tears from my eyes. "I love you too, Chase," House said, his eyes closing, his arms going limp. "Goodbye, son."

"Goodbye, Daddy."

I watched him for some time, somehow hoping he wasn't really gone. He was.

That night when I arrived home, I went straight to my room. I cried myself to sleep, hugging House's old teddy bear tightly in my hands.


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: A New Life Awaits

I was so scared for months after House died. Every night, I prayed, which I hadn't done in a long time. I prayed for my happiness, which I knew was slipping away. I prayed for the strength to keep going in my life, which I knew I was running out of. I ended each prayer with the words, "God, please take care of House. And House, please take care of me. Amen."

I don't think I'll ever fully get over House's passing. He was the most important person in my life, he had taught me so much about life and love, and I wasn't sure how I was going to manage without him.

Things began to get better, though, starting with one sunny afternoon, two months after House's death. I was walking around town when I saw a quaint, little art shop down the street. One painting in particular caught my eye. It was a picture of a little girl and a little boy, childhood sweethearts, I presumed, and they were sitting on a swing in the backyard on a beautiful night blowing bubbles.

Something about the apparent joy on the children's faces and the obvious magic in air made me stop and admire the work. It was obviously painted with skill, I thought as I noticed the little nuances that make a painting a work of art.

I looked down at the artist's name.

Trinity Jacobs.

Trinity Jacobs! I looked again to make sure I wasn't seeing things. I wasn't. It was her. It was her painting.

As I stared at it, I started thinking about my own life. I knew introspective thoughts could be perilous if not in one's own favor, but I needed closure. I remembered the questions I had asked myself when I first came back to Princeton. What went wrong with me? What was always wrong with me? Why did I leave this city, anyway? And why am I back? Now I had some answers.

What went wrong with me? What was always wrong with me? Nothing. Nothing was wrong with me, I finally learned. How could you ever become a better person if you didn't have any faults to overcome?

Why did I leave this city? Why am I back? I left because I couldn't face myself. I thought that getting out of Princeton would somehow magically cure my depression. I thought I could run away, but I couldn't run away from the place that held so much of who I am. I had to come back. To see House and to really look at myself.

Now I knew what I had to do. I had to leave Princeton again, not to cure myself this time but to cure others. I was already cured. I knew that my job as a doctor was not done, my potential love was out there, my life was not over, just as House's life was not over. It was just beginning. He lived in me, and I would carry on in his footsteps, helping people like he helped so many, especially me. Without a second thought, I boarded a plane to Italy.

Nervous and uncertain I was, but I barely took the time to even acknowledge the feelings. There was nothing holding me back. I had no family, no job. There were so many opportunities waiting for me out there, and I had to take them. No looking back.

During the ten-hour flight, I started having doubts but quickly pushed them to the back of my mind. Instead, I smiled and chatted with the guy next to me. I ate a nice meal, relaxed, and looked out of the window at the beauty that surrounded me. I eventually fell asleep and for the first time in years, slept peacefully.

When the plane finally landed, the breathtaking sights of Italy blew me away. It was the most stunning place I'd ever seen. Perfected architecture, unequalled artistic splendor, and a vibrant liveliness made me in awe of the country. I checked into a hotel for the night and decided to walk around the fabulous city of Venice.

It was about an hour into my journey that I spotted her. I actually saw her, sitting by the water, focused as she painted. My palms were sweaty. I ambled up to her.

"Trinity," I said. She gasped and turned around.

"Dr. Chase!" she asked excitedly and incredulously. "What on earth are you doing here!"  
I hadn't really thought this part through yet. "I…needed a change. I want to help people again, be a doctor again. But instead of being an intensevist, I'm going into psychology. Somehow my heart led me here to do so. I have always wanted to learn a little Italian." I smiled.

Her big, crystal eyes looked at me, unsure. "Did you know I was here?"

"Yes," I said. "Okay, Trinity, I'll be completely honest with you. I've wanted to get to know you better ever since I met you. I know this will probably sound really strange, but I kind of think I might be in love with you."

Trinity stammered, "S-so, am I the reason you came out here? Or is that just great luck…?"

Suddenly cursing myself for being so stupid, I said, "I'm sorry. You probably think I'm crazy now. I should go."

"No, I don't think that at all," she replied.

I hesitated. "So what DO you think?"

"I don't know…I've never had anyone do anything like this before," she said, pondering. "Are you sure you want to stay in Italy?"

"Definitely. It is the perfect place to start a new life."  
"So this isn't just an impulsive thing that you'll regret later?"

I shook my head. "I'm certain that it's not."

She began to smile. "Okay, Dr. Chase. See, the thing was, I wanted to start a relationship with you as well, but I knew I would be leaving for Italy at the end of the year, so I tried to make careful effort not to fall in love. It didn't work though. I found myself being quite taken with you, and one day I had the feeling that you felt the same about me. So I freaked and left before I found something to hold me back," she said. "But now you're here."

Hopefully, I asked, "What are you saying, Trinity?"

"I'm saying, 'Desideri andare gru a benna un caffè con me?'"

My eyebrows raised in surprise. "What!"  
"Want to go grab a coffee with me?" Trinity replied, smiling her perfect smile.

"I would be more than delighted," I said, beaming. She put her artwork away and her arm through mine. Things were looking up for me, and I had no doubts about it at all. I felt no guilt, regret, or self-hatred. All I felt was the miracle of hope, the phenomenon of second chance, and the promise that House would always be in my heart, guiding me through the hardships that of course would come, and celebrating with me at times like this, when I could hardly keep from shouting out to the heavens in pure, utmost bliss.

I was with the best woman in the world, ready to begin a new life in an empyrean place. I was determined to heal all the patients I could, and to give them the hope during their difficult states. I'd tell them about my own similar experiences and what I learned from them. I'd tell them never to give up because when it comes down to it, hope, faith, and love are all you have to get you through. I'd tell them all about my Tuesdays with Gregory.

THE END

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